


A Kind of Dance

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Cold Pursuit (2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Forbidden Love, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, May/December Relationship, Partners to Lovers, Pining, Romance, Secret Relationship, Trope Bingo Round 13, canonical racism, h/c_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: When he’s not enjoying the view, Sly takes care of his partner.





	A Kind of Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for h/c_bingo for the prompt [Taking Care of Somebody.](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/34933.html)
> 
> Also written for [Trope Bingo](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/37096.html) for the prompt Free Space (May/December Romance). 
> 
> What is it about these two that makes me love them so much? I’m starting to ship them harder than Mustang and Dex (and those two are canon)!

They’d been working on the Indian for hours. Usually, Sly let Bone work for a while because the kid was entirely too eager for his own damn good, for any assignment he had. Better at beating out answers than Sly was, that was for fucking sure. So Sly let him have his fun, jumped in when he thought he was needed, tried not to step on the boy’s toes too much.

Besides, it gave him a chance to stand back and watch the show.

Sly had to admit: Bone looked fucking  _gorgeous,_ sleeves rolled up and stained with blood, hair mussed and wild, using practiced fists instead of words. It was a kind of dance, unrestrained and brutally honest. It was also the quietest Bone ever was, long enough for Sly to  _really_ breathe him in. 

Here, while they were alone and temporarily hidden from prying eyes, Sly could openly stare at the boy as much as he dared. It was something like a long, fine meal up until the moment when Sly watched his partner slow, watched him begin to ripple in fury and anxiety, pacing the room in irritation while they waited for the morning and Viking along with it.

And the show was over.

The older man clasped his hands on his knees and hoisted himself up from the crate. “Lemme work on ‘im a while, yeah?”

Bone held up a hand, though didn’t give Sly the decency in diverting his attention away from his bloody assignment. “I got this.”

“Ye don’t need to prove yerself, Bone,” Sly argued.  _Or show off._

Even if they stopped now, Viking would know they’d spent most of the night trying to get information out of this bastard. One way or another, Bone would come up empty handed whether he quit now or waited for Viking to finally rear his ugly mug; that was just the way it was sometimes, no fault of Bone’s own. Sly would rather have the former, before his partner worked himself up into such a state to become blinded by fear and desperation, and later the inevitable crash from exhaustion.

Sly wasn’t much accustomed anymore to being up at all hours of the night, and the long day and night on this job had them both, especially his partner, appearing thin and haggard. “At least take a break. A five minute break,” he pressed, trying to keep Bone relatively awake and sane before the night ended.

Bone sighed and glanced up, his eyes weary yet fierce, obviously torn between giving in and keeping his head up. With anyone else, Sly had no doubt that Bone would have fought, but the older man did have his little ways over the kid. Inch by inch, piece by piece Bone slumped, backing further away from the Indian and from Sly. He glanced at the wall, hands on his hips, those hands restless until one clutched the other, soothing broken skin and along with it soreness and the stirrings of pain.

Sly offered him a water bottle but it was refused, Bone huffing and running a tired hand over his face. He paid attention to how carefully Bone was holding his hand, now that the adrenaline in the boy was fading. The fight in him would be back out soon enough but for now Sly could do his own job: be a good partner. “Lemme see yer hand.”

Not even a glance thrown in his direction, but Sly wouldn’t miss the minute clench of a finely chiseled jaw. “‘M fine, Sly.”

“Lemme see yer hand, boy,” Sly insisted, his tone too forceful to be argued with. Bone huffed again - as a mere child would - and met Sly halfway, offering his injured hand and allowing the older man to gingerly wipe away most of the blood with his gloved fingers, examining it carefully. When Sly could distinguish Bone’s blood from the Indian’s, he removed his gloves and cupped the damaged hand in both of his, gently caressing the knuckles with his thumb, rubbing small circles into his palm, listening to Bone’s sharp intake of breath and shortly thereafter his soft sigh of relief as Sly began to carefully stretch out each finger, easing the stiffness.

It didn’t slip past Sly how he could break that hand with just an effortless flick of his wrist.

It didn’t pass unnoticed either how still Bone was, as if holding his breath, how deep Bone’s eyes were, blown wide in something resembling awe, and more than anything how the trust in them was for only  _one_ person. Sly met that gaze, steady, sure of himself, mildly challenging the boy to pull away. 

Bone drew in a shivery breath, breaking eye contact. “Where’d you learn this, old man?”

“I’ve learned a thing or two over the years, on how to take care of yer  _partner,”_ Sly stressed. He wanted Bone to understand that this  _was_ his job, not just doing every bloody thing imaginable for Viking, but looking after Bone when they were assigned together: watching his back, ensuring he was mentally and physically fit, taking over when he got too tired, making sure he ate and drank enough to stave off hunger and dehydration and yes, even taking a bullet for him if presented with the choice to protect his partner or to stand there and do nothing. 

Maybe partners weren’t usually like this, didn’t give a fuck about each other past getting the job done. Maybe Sly had never quite wanted to take care of his other partners the way he wanted to take care of Bone: in every way possible.

But  _fuck_ , those lips looked so pink and plump and  _soft_ when they weren’t moving a mile a minute with inane chatter. That hair he just wanted to run his hands through in an effort to either tame or ravage. He wanted Bone underneath the sheets, spread out beneath him as he was in those arrogant and foolish tales of his, waiting for Sly to open the door, grinning with wild abandon up at him until Sly took the dare and dove into him like a man into a warm lake in the middle of winter. 

Sly cupped his boy’s cheek next, wiping away a drop of blood just underneath Bone’s eye. “We’ll bandage it later, once Viking’s had his way with ‘im.” Bone nodded once, as if this had been the plan all along, and his eyes again latched uncertainly onto Sly’s when the older man grasped his chin to hold him in place. “Don’t leave ma sight until I’ve taken care of ye, boy, ye hear me?”

“Loud and clear, old man.”

Sly released him, shoving him back a step for good measure, heart beating wildly at Bone’s unashamed grin as if he’d gotten away with something. Bone got away with a  _lot_ of things as far as Sly was concerned. 

Especially as he was watching Sly openly now, those lips just on the verge of a pleased smirk, dangerously daring him now that he knew exactly who his partner desired.

What had he gotten himself into?

Best to figure that all out later.

“Ye gettin’ back to work, Bone, or shall I?” He’d see how his partner felt in several hours time, see if he still felt this confident or if it was all just some ruse.

Sly prayed not.

**FIN**


End file.
